


Strapped

by horselizard



Category: British Comedy RPF, Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Bratting, Cuffs, Daddy/boy dynamic, Dom/sub, Humiliation, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Paddling, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Punishment, Restraints, Rivalry, Self-Bondage, Subspace, mlm author, still not sure quite what the pairings are exactly but in my head it's sort of all of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17199023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horselizard/pseuds/horselizard
Summary: They're not filming a show any more, but the roles seem to remain the same as they ever were. Alex gets James to do stupid things, James does them, and Greg... judges.





	Strapped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sashataakheru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/gifts).



> To Sasha, again, for being a wonderful enabler. Hope you like what I've done with your fic-world this time.

Alex was slumped over the kitchen table, head in his hands, when James wandered in in search of a snack. James glanced at him as he crossed over to the cupboard. Alex didn't usually display much emotion, and right now he looked pretty desolate. The sight didn't arouse any particular sympathy in James, but it did pique his curiosity.

"Y'all right, Alex?" he asked breezily, scanning the cupboard's contents with a disinterested air, then poking his head in the fridge.

"Not really," Alex mumbled. "Greg is angry at me."

"Huh! Tell me about it," James scoffed as he inspected a pack of cheese. "What's his problem this time?"

Alex raised his head to meet James' eyes. The poor sod looked nothing short of haggard. "He ordered me to cuff myself to the bench, and I couldn't do it. So now he's angry at me for disobeying his orders."

James ripped open the cheese, fished out a knife from the drawer, and cut himself a chunk. "What, the punishment bench? Those little strap things? He wanted you to strap yourself in?"

Alex nodded, and James chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Sounds pretty hard."

Alex nodded again. Suddenly James' eyes lit up. "Bet I could do it," he grinned, and bounded from the room.

Alex stood up, taken aback, glancing between the doorway, and the knife and cheese abandoned on the counter. James stuck his head back through the door.

"Come on, Alex," he said, "let's see if we can't give your master a surprise."

* * *

A few minutes later, they were in the playroom, Alex watching with interest as James attempted to strap himself to the punishment bench. Each of the bench's four legs had a leather cuff attached to it, on a small slider which meant it could be raised or lowered to fit the limbs of whoever Greg was teaching a lesson at the time. Greg didn't always bother to use them, but they could come in handy when the boy he was punishing was being particularly submissive, or particularly rebellious. James chose not to think about the fact that the cuffs were still set to fit him, after the last time he'd pushed his master just that bit too far.

It took some twisting and grunting, but before long, James was lying across the bench with the cuffs firmly tightened around both ankles, and one wrist.

"Pretty easy so far, actually," he gloated, as he stretched his right hand out to reach the remaining restraint.

"That's as far as I got," Alex replied flatly, walking round and crouching down to watch, but without much enthusiasm.

James honestly wasn't sure if he could manage to one-handedly tighten the final cuff round his own wrist, but he was going to have a damn good go at it. He was dexterous and long-fingered, and if he could just... push the strap... through the buckle... and then angle his wrist around...

Somehow he managed to reel the strap in with one finger, pinch down on it with another, and yank it in just such a way that the prong of the buckle slid home into one of the tighter notches. "Aha!" he exclaimed in triumph, then, for good measure, and because he could, he nudged the strap into the loop that held it in place.

"There you go, Alex!" he beamed, craning his neck to look at his companion, his face flushed with victory. "Did you see that? Did you see how I bent my hand round? That's all you've got to do!" He wriggled his wrist to show that the cuff was, indeed, secure - it was a bit looser than Greg would have fastened it, but still not loose enough for him to slip his hand through.

"Gosh, that's very clever, James," Alex replied, his eyes wide.

"Well, thank you very much, Alex," James grinned, "but come on, you let me out now, then you can see if you can manage it too."

"Oh, do you need me to let you out?" Alex asked, straightening up, and making no obvious moves towards doing as he was asked.

"Well, yeah, that's the point?" James frowned. "I've cuffed myself in. Like Greg wanted you to do. I just need you to get this wrist, though, I can do the rest myself."

"You mean you've really managed to cuff yourself in? You can't get out?"

James tried to curve his hand round and pull the same stunt in reverse, but now that the loop was holding the strap flat against the cuff, he had no hope of freeing himself. He wriggled his wrist again, for emphasis. "No, I can't! Come on, Alex, don't be a knob, let me out!"

Alex stepped back slightly. "Oh, no, I'm not sure I want to."

"You what? Look, stop dicking around, I'm stuck here! Why won't you let me out?"

"I'm scared."

"What?!"

"You might be angry. If I undo your cuffs, you might hit me."

"Alex, what the fuck are you going on about?" James exclaimed, angling his head up to try and glare at him. "I'm only going to hit you if you don't let me out of these god damn cuffs!"

"But if I don't let you out, you can't -"

"I mean later, you dickhead!" James growled, now thoroughly flustered. "What is wrong with you? I was trying to do you a favour!"

"Oh, were you? That's very nice of you."

"Yes! I was trying to show you how to cuff yourself to the bench, so that you could do it for Greg!"

"Why would he want me to do that, James?"

There was a pause. James narrowed his eyes. Colour began to rise in his cheeks.

"You set me up," he said, slowly, dangerously quietly. Alex nodded in that stupid way of his, his face otherwise blank and gormless, as though the little bastard hadn't known exactly what he was doing all along. "This is all just a set-up, isn't it! Oh, I'll pretend to James that Greg wanted me to cuff myself to the bench, see if he's stupid enough to do it!"

"And you were," Alex added helpfully, his expression still innocently blank.

"You piece of shit!" James howled, struggling against the cuffs in earnest now. The little bit of give in the right wrist restraint only enabled him to chafe himself against the leather. He was well and truly stitched up. "You absolute piece of shit, Alex! Let me out! Let me out right now!"

"No, thank you, James."

"Then what am I supposed to do? I'm stuck, you bastard!"

"Wait for Greg to find you and let you out, I expect."

James seethed. If Alex wasn't going to let him out, Greg would have to, it was true. "I'm not just going to lie here like a sucker until he happens to turn up! Greg! Greg! Sir!" he yelled, as loud as he could. "Greg, help me, sir!" He turned back to Alex, looking daggers. "I'll tell him what you fucking did and all! We'll see how pleased he is about that!"

"Jesus Christ, Acaster, what's all the shouting about?" Greg's voice came from down the hallway. James twisted to see him stride through the door, stop dead, and slowly raise a hand to his forehead.

He let out a long sigh. "What the hell are you two idiots playing at?"

"Alex tricked me, sir!" James blurted out, waving an accusing finger in as close to Alex's direction as he could manage. Usually, when he was angry, he expressed it by gesticulating violently. Now, not only was he angry about being trapped, but being trapped also meant he couldn't express that anger, which was another thing that tended to make him angry. It was all turning into a bit of a vicious circle. "He made me cuff myself to the bench!"

"He _made_ you?" Greg asked incredulously. "How the fuck did he _make_ you?"

"He lied to me, sir! He took your name in vain! He said you'd asked him to do it, and he couldn't, and you were angry, cos he knew then I'd try to do it, and I did, and now I'm f... now I'm stuck, sir!" James finally paused for breath. "Please let me out, sir?"

Alex was still doing his deer-in-headlights impression over in the corner. Greg looked James up and down, his lanky body stretched out immobile across the bench, his face red with fury. "You mean you did this to yourself?"

"Yes, sir," James replied, a touch of sheepishness creeping into his voice. "Pretty impressive, eh, sir?" he added hopefully.

The last thing Greg looked was impressed. "So Alex pulled a ridiculous trick on you, you fell for it, and then you started screaming the place down, hoping I'd come in here and sort everything out?"

"Er... yeah?" James said, smiling weakly at his scowling master.

"Same old story, isn't it, James? Very good at getting yourself into trouble, not so good at getting yourself out of it." Greg pressed his face close to James'. "I'm a busy man, Acaster, and I don't appreciate being disturbed. Particularly not to tend to the whims of some idiot boy who doesn't stop to think before he throws himself headlong into ludicrous situations." James fidgeted uncomfortably under his master's stern gaze. "So no, I'm not going to let you out."

"What?!"

"Alex can let you out."

"But he said he wouldn't!" James yelped, outraged.

"He will if you ask him nicely. Won't you, Alex?" Greg looked meaningfully at Alex, who nodded vigorously.

"Ask him _nicely_?" James yelled. "But this whole thing is his fault! I wouldn't be stuck like this if he hadn't tricked me! I wouldn't have had to call for you and disturb you, sir! He should be punished! Not bloody asked things _nicely_!"

"Don't waste your breath, Acaster, you know very well that if _you_ hadn't been a gullible fucking idiot, we wouldn't have any of these problems either. And just you watch your step, trying to tell me who I should and shouldn't be punishing. You know I don't take kindly to that."

"No, of course not, sir, I would never try to do that, sir," James said hastily, before his voice rose again, "but he's a sneaky fucking bastard! Look what he did to me! I'm not going to ask him nicely for anything, the little arsehole!"

"Well, then, you'll just have to stay stuck like that, won't you?" Greg replied, turning to leave.

"What?! No! No way! That is not fair!" James shouted. "Let me out! One of you let me out right now! I can't believe this shit! If one of you doesn't let me out, I'll just keep on screaming until someone else comes and finds me! Help! Help, I'm trapped!"

"You will, won't you?" Greg murmured, shaking his head. "You bloody will, you stubborn prick. Well, we can't have that. Alex, fetch the punishment log."

"Wait, _what_?!" James exclaimed, aghast.

"How convenient that you're already in position. I don't know why I bother letting you out afterwards, really, you're always back here soon enough. Come on, boy, trousers down."

Greg marched over and started to slide his hands under James' waist. Instinctively, James pressed himself down into the bench to try and stop him, yelping in protest. But Greg easily forced one arm under the little brat's midriff and hoisted him up a few centimetres, allowing him to make short work of his belt and fly with the other arm.

"Oh, no! No, sir, please!" James cried out helplessly, as Greg took hold of his trousers and boxers, and forced them down to his thighs. He squirmed both with embarrassment, and in horrible anticipation of what was surely about to happen to him. "Please don't punish me, sir! I've done nothing wrong!"

"Bullshit you have," Greg sniffed. "You've disturbed me, you've argued the toss with me, and you've worked yourself up into a very noisy and very boring tantrum. Plus you've been really quite rude to Alex, just because you apparently can't take a fucking joke. You know how this works, James. I control you because you can't fucking control yourself."

He walked around the bench and crouched down to James' eye level. Fear and fury were jostling for position on the boy's features. "Now, I'll give you one last chance, James. Apologise to me, apologise to Alex, and _maybe_ I'll let you out without punishing you."

James met his gaze, scowling, lips pressed tight, mouth twisting as he considered his options. "With respect, sir," he declared finally, "you're a bastard, and I hate you."

"Surprising absolutely no-one," Greg said mildly, as he walked over to the toy rack, and fetched down the vicious-looking wooden paddle. "That's fine by me, James. I just wanted you to be very conscious of the fact that you brought this on yourself. To be fully aware, as you lie there writhing in pain, that you could have avoided all this if you'd only swallowed your pride. But no, punishment it is, you mouthy little shit." He laid the paddle flat against James' bare arse, and stroked idle little circles across his skin, making him twitch beautifully. "I'm going to give you five, James, and you're going to count them. Nice and loud and clear, so Alex knows to log them. Understood?"

"Yes, _sir_ ," James spat through gritted teeth.

"Good boy," Greg replied with equal sarcasm, and raised the paddle.

"Gaaah!" James yelled hoarsely, face screwing up in pain, as the heavy wooden paddle connected with his sensitive backside, sending waves of hot agony radiating through his body. "One!" he hissed, glaring at Alex, standing watch with his pen poised over the ledger. "...You _prick_."

"What did you just call me?" said Greg, danger in his voice.

"What?" James exclaimed, his face falling. "No! Not you, sir, I didn't mean you!" He struggled to turn his head towards Greg, hoping his craven expression would placate his master. "I was talking to Alex...!"

"Still haven't quite got the hang of this whole 'manners' thing, have you, Acaster?" Greg sighed. "I think you need a bit more practice. Now, we're going to try that again, and this time, after every stroke, I want you to count, then thank me, then thank Alex."

"What do I have to thank Alex for?" James whined, face creasing in despair.

"For doing the admin," Greg replied airily. "Can't be much fun, having to sit through all your bullshit just waiting for you to start counting properly."

Alex didn't particularly look like he wasn't having fun. Quite the opposite, if James was any judge of his characteristically deadpan expression. He shot him a murderous look as Greg raised the paddle again.

"Right. Are you ready? Starting from one again, remember."

The paddle slammed down again, and James howled. "One!" he forced out between gasps of pain. "Thank you, Greg." His mouth contorted with distaste. "Thank you, _Alex_."

"I'd have preferred 'thank you, sir', but coming from you, any politeness at all is really a step up," Greg commented, "so I'll accept it. Keep it up, you little fucker."

James' arse was already sore and throbbing, and when the next stroke landed, it brought tears to his eyes - not just of pain, but of frustrated rage. The situation was, he was certain, utterly unfair, and he was powerless to do anything but suffer through it, Alex watching all the while as he cemented his position as definitely not their master's favourite. He burned with injustice, and a few other things.

"Two," he spat, angry to hear how his voice shook. "Thank you, Greg. Thank you, Alex."

The next time the paddle landed against his tender backside, he really did start to cry. "Owww!" he wailed. "It _huuurts_!"

"I'm sorry, James, what was that?"

"I mean," James gasped, struggling to focus against the blinding agony, "three... thank you, Greg... thank you, Alex."

James didn't notice Greg's considering pause. His world had become entirely centred around the swell of pain that ebbed and flowed with each strike of the paddle, the dull thud and then the stinging aftershocks, the struggle to bear what quickly built to feel unbearable. Surely he couldn't take any more? It was always at this point, never any earlier, that he began to desperately wish he had swallowed his pride and begged for mercy when he had the chance. Tears streamed down his hot cheeks as he forced himself to breathe, rhythm carrying him through each agonising second that the effect of the stroke remained at its peak.

"That'll do," Greg said finally, and before James was able to process what he'd said, the paddle came down again, harder, he could have sworn, than before.

"Four!" he wailed. It wasn't four, it was five. He was stretched out across the punishment bench, bound and helpless, his trousers at half mast and his arse exposed, and he'd already taken five strokes, and he was still due one more. Or several more, if he didn't follow his orders. He couldn't have felt sorrier for himself, especially knowing that nobody else felt sorry for him at all. "Thank you, Greg," he blurted out between sobs, "thank you, Alex."

Was that good enough? Had that been quick enough? Time always seemed to stretch out as he fought against the renewed pain. Had he been good enough for his master? It was the only thing that would save him from more and more pain, more and more punishment until his master was satisfied. He felt very small and scared. He felt so much smaller than his previous swagger. He felt so very desperate to please his master. The pride he'd been so jealously guarding just a few minutes earlier was in tatters.

"Good boy," Greg soothed. "You're doing well. Just one more."

One more. He could take one more... probably. Well, Greg was going to give him one more, so he was going to take it. He trusted Greg to know what he could handle, to know what was good for him. He tried not to tense up as the paddle whistled through the air.

"Aaargh!" came James' strangled cry as the final stroke hit its mistreated target. "Five!" he spluttered, fighting for breath. "Thank you, Greg... thank you, Alex."

He'd done it. It was over. His butt was still throbbing like a bastard, but he could suffer that until it faded. He'd deserved it, after all; he knew that now. He was certain of one thing, that he was a naughty little brat who'd displeased his master and paid the price, and that sense of certainty settled like a warm cocoon over his aching body. Relief flooded him as he lay there, a poor little broken boy taking deep shuddering breaths, his woebegone face streaked wet with tears: it had stopped. The punishment had stopped.

He would have done anything to make it stop, even begged Alex. He wouldn't have been caught dead begging that sneak for anything just five minutes earlier, but Greg had beaten him down, knocked the fight out of him. And then he understood. Greg knew what was good for him, all right. Greg knew that if he hadn't forced him into this state, he would still have been stuck there, stubborn, screaming, until well into the evening. But now, he wasn't raging and howling, wasn't fighting in frustration against restraints and injustice; he was limp and meek, fully accepting of his place, his position, his punishment. 

"Well done, James," Greg soothed, gently rubbing his bruised arse, the words like balm. "Now, do you want to be let out?"

"Yes please, sir," James replied weakly.

"Then you know what you have to do."

He did, and there was no way he could have done it before, but now it came as easily as breathing. "Alex," he said humbly, angling his head so he could look up at him, "please will you let me out of the cuffs?"

Alex looked apprehensive. "I'm not angry, I promise," James continued earnestly. "I won't try and hurt you. I've learned my lesson. You got me good, Alex, it was a very clever trick you pulled. I'm sorry I was so rude to you. I need your help, Alex, please will you help me get out of here?"

Alex looked over at Greg, who nodded curtly, a satisfied smile flitting across his lips. "Okay, James," he said, "I'll help you. But I'm still a bit scared, so I'm only going to do the one wrist."

"Thank you, Alex," James said as Alex reached over and undid the cuff from as far away as possible, and this time he really meant it. He was grateful for being freed, yes, when he knew Alex would have been entirely justified in just leaving him there. But also, he was grateful for having been trapped in the first place, for all the pain and humiliation he'd suffered, for being given a reason for Greg to cut him down to size.

He groaned as he slowly lifted his stiff arm, shook it out, and dragged it across to fumble with the left wrist cuff. The others watched in silence as he painfully shuffled along the bench until he could reach first one ankle cuff, then the other. He slid down off the bench and stumbled slightly, long legs still half-numb, head bowed and body bent in shame as he hastily pulled his trousers back up.

"Good boy," said Greg, pulling him close, his massive body enveloping him, and he clung to him, let himself sag against the sturdy support of his master, buried his tear-stained face in his chest.

"Thank you, Alex, you can go now," he told his better-behaved (or at least more artful) boy. "I'll bring you back in here later for a reward."

Alex left, and James let himself be led across the playroom to the soft cushions in the corner. He curled up with his head in his master's lap, feeling the effects of his ordeal in every part of his body: his aching limbs, his raw arse, his full heart. Greg hugged him to him, stroked his hair tenderly, and he never wanted to leave.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [little soul // enjoy the silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284754) by [Sashataakheru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru)




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